


Treasure Box

by luvbird28



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 03:10:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10453641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvbird28/pseuds/luvbird28
Summary: Mycroft has a habit of storing old letters in a box (very plain looking wooden one). While Sherlock was residing at Mycroft's only for a brief period after TFP, he found that one. And that one single box happened to change a lot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer - I own no characters.

Mycroft was taking his breakfast silently, which annoyed his little brother to the extreme who was sitting (or better to say half lying) on the couch in the living room. The dining table happened to be in his direct line of view, and unfortunately his most annoying big (literally) was sitting there and munching his toast (disgusting!). Sherlock threw another glare towards him. Mycroft simply looked at him and then shifted his attention to that bloody plate full of God knows what! Finally it broke Sherlock's patience threshold - and truly speaking Mycroft expected it even sooner. Anyways, when he finally spoke it sounded almost like a complaint.  
"Is this absolutely necessary Mycroft? Why do you have to go today?"  
-"you know very well why, brother mine"  
\- "But obviously you've explained all those necessary parts yesterday - you should be granted at least a few days' rest"  
\- "Just because you would feel bored here doesn't necessarily mean I will be granted leave brother dear! Especially there is a complex situation in Sherrinford now. Britain cannot afford another security issue with Sherrinford."  
\- "And hence your shoulder! Brilliant!"  
Mycroft simply rolled his eyes as he proceeded towards the door.

It was only one day since Sherrinford. As one can expect everything was not normal yet - actually nothing would be normal again. A lot had changed. But to Mycroft's surprise Sherlock's reaction was quite unexpected. While returning from Sherrinford he actually did ask the good DI to take care of him, and when Mycroft hesitantly put the proposal for staying at his until Baker Street was not repaired, Sherlock accepted it without any further argument - this really surprised Mycroft. Yesterday Mycroft was at home. There were many things to be taken care of. Sherlock was with him the whole time. Though their usual bickering was there, but he never said anything accusing Mycroft. That really spread a very pleasant warmth in his heart - which was needed (he realised much later) after the whole fiasco.

Yesterday at night, when Mycroft was finally preparing for bed, he hardly expected his brother in his room. But he was there. Exhausted as expected but still waiting for him. Mycroft braced himself for his words. But Sherlock sat on his bed without uttering a single word, then silently waited for him. He waited for him to open up. After a long few minutes, Sherlock finally spoke. But when he did, it seemed to Mycroft as miracle of God!  
-"My, I erased a lot, I recovered some of my memories - but not the whole... I remember Victor (his voice cracked a bit with the name) and those games we played - but I cannot remember my days with you and Eurus... How were we? My, help me please -"  
The pleading tone of his baby brother and the use of that long forgotten nick name, which was only for Sherlock to use, Mycroft felt a lump in his throat. And they spent the whole night revisiting their memories - good or bad - but truth anyways. It was surreal to him. But necessary nevertheless - not only for Sherlock, but for both of them.

So, when Sherlock today's ranting about his work, he knew immediately that it was his brother's unique way of telling him that he would miss him. He smiled inwardly - and left for work.


	2. Chapter 2

After Mycroft left for work, Sherlock was all alone in that big house of his. Practically alone for the first time after the Sherrinford incident. He was disturbed, yes. But there was so much more. Everybody, who knew the truth now, despised Mycroft for everything - but somehow he felt terrible at the thought. He had thought about it - and every time he came to the Same conclusion. If Mycroft did not stepped in - as he did, and kept himself safe from the whole blame game, what would happen? Surely that insane sister of his ( he felt for her, true, but that doesn't make her less insane) would surely destroy att least a few more lives. But in that case, nobody would blame Mycroft for anything - he would be a good brother. Instead, he saved those lives, took the whole responsibility for something he did not need to. And kept people safe until now. Yes, Moriarty was a wrong step. But at the end of the day, Mycroft is still human - forget what other people think. So when Sherlock thought of it, he could not blame Mycroft. Not him, it was not his fault. And that is why he came here in the first place when he proposed the offer. And now he was bored at his wit's end! What would he be doing the whole day? He had already checked the rooms, there was nothing interesting - as boring as that big fat Mycroft - he could not even perform any sort of experiment here. He sighed. This is torture. Let Mycroft come - he would make him pay for it.

Finally he thought of spending the rest of the day in the library. That one room in this house deserved to be appreciated. The library was decorated as a Victorian one. The room was filled with the smell of old books. The large woden table was not as clean as the rest of the furniture in the house. Mycroft Holmes is a personification of immaculate. But he always loved to read with books all around. Sherlock remembered those days when he used to think that it might be possible to lose Mycroft under those enormous piles of books. So to be sure of his brother's existence he made it a point to find a way through that wall of books to him and he often clung to his neck as tightly as his little hands could. Sherlock laughed as he remembered that scene so vividly. He jerked his head absent mindedly - " I really gave him hard times - poor boy! " he couldn't control his laughter. The table reminded him of those days so much. The same scattered books - piled haphazardly. Some notepads here and there. One or two pens (not uncapped though - Mycroft never leaves his pens uncapped). After hesitating for a moment he sat in Mycroft's chair. He tried to pull the table drawers - the first two were locked (nevermind, he would pick that later) - the third one opened easily. There were a few old files (and the most boring award goes to them), an old pen (not in working condition - why the hell did he keep it!) and a Rubik's cube. Sherlock smiled fondly watching the last item. He and Mycroft always loved to challenge each other with its time and he used to lose maximum of times - those were the good old days... He wondered why Mycroft kept it here - he surely does not find it any more challenging now - he touched its surface delicately and then shut the drawer.

He was just about to open the bottom one when he noticed it. A plain lookin wooden box kept very casually on the near by shelf. The box was too simple as opposed to the grandeur of the whole room. And that is what attracted him the most. Without wasting a single moment he took the box and settled himself at the corner of the room. It was not much heavy. Its condition told him that Mycroft used it quite frequently. The box was very old, but it was polished and well maintained. So Mycroft took his precious time to keep the box as it was - definitely not boring any more... It was still thrilling to Sherlock to know anything personal about Mycroft, was it because of his enigmatic persona, or something else? Who cares! Sherlock carefully opened the lid.


End file.
